


i'm not the only one lying

by orphan_account



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Teacher-Student Relationship, mikey has a crush on pete and pete's got loose morals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 20:07:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete would be lying if he said he never had a crush on a teacher, or that he never had fantasies about one. He got it. He’d never considered actually acting on any of it, but he got it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm not the only one lying

**Author's Note:**

> title from nobody puts baby in the corner. _and if you say this makes you happy then i'm not the only one lying._
> 
> well this is for vic whiskey_n_speed!!! she was talking about a pikey student/teacher fic and i was like yes i think that could be arranged so. here u go friend! surprise!

It started with Mikey in his uniform, batting his eyelashes at Pete from the front row of desks.

 _He’s probably just tired,_ was Pete’s first thought. He had dealt with his fair share of tired students. He didn’t blame them, really, but it wasn’t his job to supervise naptime. “Paying attention, Mikey?” he asked, arms crossed and eyebrow raised.

“Sorry, Mr. Wentz.” He didn’t sound particularly sorry, but Pete let it go and resumed the lecture.

But then it would happen whenever Pete turned away from the chalkboard. Mikey, head in his palms, blinking dreamily at Pete, or otherwise staring at him with half-mast eyes. Mikey with his bottom lip between his teeth. Mikey smiling innocently whenever Pete gave him stern looks. And Mikey, old enough to know better, staying just a little bit longer than his classmates to say goodbye to Pete every day.

***

Pete liked working with high school kids. Really, he did. He just hated their apparent need to make a mess of any space.

“Anyone want to stay late this afternoon and help pick up?”

Mikey fucking Way had his hand raised and a huge grin on his face. “I’ll stay, Mr. Wentz,” he chirped. Well, Pete should have seen that coming. He winced. He couldn’t exactly say no, though, especially since nobody else had volunteered.

The bell rang. “Alright, class dismissed. Have a good weekend.” He waited for everyone to pack up and stream out of the room. “You can stay, Mikey,” he added, because he looked like he was getting ready to leave too.

Mikey scrambled to drop his shoulder bag back on the ground next to him. Pete almost felt bad for the kid. “What do you need me to do?”

Pete opened up a desk drawer for a box of Clorox wipes. “Just the chalkboard, it really needs a good clean,” he instructed, “I’ll get the desks.”

They didn’t talk much. Mikey hummed softly while he worked, and Pete mostly kept to himself. He finished off the desks without incident until he reached the first row. Or, until he got to Mikey’s seat.

Scrawled hastily in pencil was a heart, and inside of it someone had drawn the initials _PW + MW_. Pete sucked in a short breath.

“Fuck,” he whispered, risking a glance up at Mikey, who still had his back turned. Pete scrubbed furiously at the pencil markings until they were gone.

“Finished!” Mikey smiled over his shoulder, setting his cleaning supplies down on Pete’s desk. He couldn't have picked a better time. Pete silently counted his few blessings.

“You can go, then. Thanks for that. I appreciate the help.”

Mikey picked up his bag. “No problem. My pleasure, actually,” he said, and his voice was dangerously low. Pete physically swallowed. “See you Monday, Mr. Wentz.”

After managing a weak little wave and watching Mikey go, Pete took a few steps and threw himself into the chair behind his desk.

“Fuck,” he said again, because that summed up everything pretty nicely.

***

His next mistake was the pop quiz.

He was halfway through the stack of papers when he got to Mikey’s. Instead of actual answers to the questions he’d asked, there was an obscene sentiment written across the page.

 _bend me over your desk_ , it read, in Mikey’s stupid blocky handwriting.

And sure, Pete would be lying if he said he never had a crush on a teacher, or that he never had fantasies about one. He got it. He’d never considered actually acting on any of it, but he got it.

He had learned a lot in college. How to deal with unruly students, how to break up a fight, how to keep kids interested. But never how to deal with this.

***

He leaned against the wall of his shower and let the water roll over his chest, his stomach. He thought about stripping off that stupid schoolboy uniform and kissing that stupid lopsided smile off Mikey’s face. He thought about Mikey on his knees, or on his stomach, bent over Pete’s desk. His breath came sharply, in and out through his mouth, occasionally permeated by a soft gasp of _Mikey_ or _fuck_. Mikey, gasping and begging and needy.

When he was done he wiped his hand off on his thigh and screwed his eyes shut as tight as he could.

Probably getting off on the issue at hand was the wrong way to deal.

***

“Care to explain yourself?”

Pete spread the paper out on the desk between them. Mikey bit his lip, glanced downwards and froze. All of the color flushed out of his cheeks.

“I don’t know what to say,” he muttered, and if he was trying for confidence he fell flat.

“How about sorry?” Pete ran a hand through his hair. “Because if anyone else saw this, Mikey, you could get expelled.”

“I’m-”

“I could lose my job over this. I could go to jail if they thought I was encouraging you.” He grit his teeth.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Wentz.” Mikey was staring up at him with wide eyes. “I just thought,” he started, but Pete cut him off again.

“Thought what? Thought you could turn this in without consequences?”

Mikey shook his head. “No, not that.”

Pete took a deep breath and steeled himself. “Good, I was hoping you’d understand. How about you go sit on my desk?”

To be honest, he felt almost as shocked as Mikey looked. “Sorry, what?”

“You want that, right?” Pete drummed his fingers on the cheap wood. “I’m just trying to indulge you.”

And then Mikey seemed to get it. He was out of his seat and on top of the desk before Pete could ask twice. He locked the classroom door before he made his way over himself, sliding between Mikey’s spread legs.

“You sure?” Mikey asked timidly. Pete rolled his eyes. He rested his hand heavily on the back of Mikey’s neck and pulled him closer for a kiss instead of answering. _Shit_ , Pete thought briefly, because he was about to make out with a sixteen-year-old, but as soon as Mikey got into it any concerns he had about this being a bad idea were gone. Besides being a little sloppy he was very, very good with his mouth. Pete filed that away for later. He touched Mikey’s waist through the fabric of his blazer and button-down. Someday, he’d take those off too, but for the time being he settled on loosening the stupid striped tie around Mikey’s throat.

Mikey gasped out loud when Pete kissed his neck hard enough to bruise. He’d picked a spot under the collar of the shirt, but only just. If somebody looked hard enough they would probably see it. He let Mikey card his fingers through his hair and when he stuck his hand down the front of those itchy khaki slacks, Mikey whimpered. He encouraged it, though, rocked back against Pete’s palm as it moved. It didn’t take long for him to get hard.

Pete smiled. _Teenagers_ , he thought offhandedly, taking his hand back and doing his best to give Mikey a stern glance. “Up,” he said, “and turn around.” Mikey obeyed easily, sliding off the desk and to his feet.

He made a startled little noise when Pete pushed him down against the desk. After the initial shock, he settled into the position, bracing himself on his elbows.

“No, stay all the way down.” Pete watched Mikey lay flat, then walked around the desk to fish a small, nondescript bottle of lube out of his bag. When he returned he reached around Mikey’s waist to loosen his belt. It was just a matter of slacks and boxers after that, and they came down easily. Once his fingers were coated in lube, he worked one inside of him.

He started squirming almost immediately. “Hey, relax,” Pete coaxed, and waited until he had done so to start moving.

“I am relaxed,” Mikey snapped, voice pitching up at the end of the phrase. Pete took the opportunity to add another finger. Stroking Mikey’s back with his free hand, he prepared him carefully, still asking him to loosen up every once in awhile.

Pete waited until the little whines of discomfort had become gasps, and even then he waited until Mikey told him he was ready. “It’s fine, I’m fine, go for it,” he promised.

“Listen,” Pete said, sliding his fingers out, forcing his own slacks down, and pouring more lube into his palm, “if you want to do this again, you have to be careful. No more initials on your desk or turning quizzes in like that. Promise?”

Mikey turned his head and glanced at Pete out of the corner of his eye. “Promise, Mr. Wentz. I’ll be good. Please, just.” He didn’t finish his sentence, just batted his eyelashes like he’d been doing from day one.

That was enough for Pete. He slicked himself up and lined up.

It played out exactly like his fantasies. Mikey was just as perfect spread out on the desk as Pete had imagined he’d be, and the sounds he made were, too. If he wasn’t gasping Pete’s name in a breathy little voice, he was gasping for more, for deeper, for anything.

Pete kept one hand against Mikey’s back and the other wrapped around his hip. “Shit, Mikey,” he murmured, unable to afford anything louder, “wanted this for awhile.”

“Me too,” Mikey managed on the tail-end of a moan, “me too, Mr. Wentz.” When Pete hit a particular spot, his fingernails dug hard into his palms and he couldn’t help but moan a little louder than he had been. “Oh, right there, I’m close.”

Pete did as he said, keeping up the angle, and Mikey shivered and moaned beneath him. He tensed up just before he came, spilling himself all over the front of the desk.

Mikey mumbled something that Pete couldn’t make out at first. “What was that?”

“Let me up, I want to get you off,” Mikey said again, still sounding breathless. Pete pulled out and waited.

He stood up, pulling his boxers and slacks up but leaving the belt undone. Pete followed him with his eyes as he sank to his knees and licked the flat of his tongue over his cock. He lasted for a handful of seconds after Mikey sucked him into his mouth, and he might have been embarrassed about that if he had been with anyone else. Mostly he was impressed that Mikey had fucking swallowed without complaint.

It took him awhile to speak up again, long enough for Mikey to have stood up and perched himself in Pete’s chair. “So,” he said, and then rested a beat. “So, we could keep doing this.”

“You think so?”

Pete nodded. “Yeah. But we have to be careful.”

Mikey rolled his eyes in typical teenage fashion. “Already promised you I would be.” And maybe it was a bad idea to sleep with students. Especially high school students that were several years his junior. But when Pete grinned across the desk at Mikey and Mikey smiled back at him, he felt like he was on top of the fucking world.

“You’re cleaning off my desk, by the way.”

“I figured.”


End file.
